


Holly Jolly: The Story of Cannibal Santa

by sarcasmismykink



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: But like also murder, Cannibalism, Fluff, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal learns the spirit of Christmas, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I’m losing my shit guys, I’m so sorry for this, Light Angst, M/M, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, accidental murder santa, but as mentioned through murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28516083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasmismykink/pseuds/sarcasmismykink
Summary: “Hannibal approached the piece of paper and noticed that a single golden bell sat atop it. His frown deepened. Nimbly, Hannibal picked up the items, unfolding the note and juggling the bell at the same time, his eyes scanning the elegant script that lay before him. It smelled strongly of peppermint and fresh snow.”ORHannibal Lecter accidentally kills and eats Santa, forcing himself into taking up Ol’ Saint Nick’s position.Inspired by @unsaidannie on TikTok
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Holly Jolly: The Story of Cannibal Santa

**Author's Note:**

> The long awaited “accidental murder Santa” fic is here... I apologize in advance.

Hannibal Lecter was many things. An excellent composer, player of the harpsichord and theremin. A gracious host, one that you would never catch without a slight curve of the lips. A lover of classical music, a man who practically lives at the opera. A renowned chef, an absolute demon in the kitchen. A lover of the arts. A man who was “as gay as you can get” according to Jimmy Price(he had been slapped upside the head afterward by Jack Crawford and apologized with a sheepish look, though he exchanged glances with Zeller afterward and Hannibal was quite sure that he was not very sorry at all). A procrastinator, however, he most certainly was not. That was why it was so surprising that he found himself short of a cut of meat for his Christmas dinner the very night of Christmas Eve. The older man let out a “harumph”, grumbling to himself as he paced the sterile floor of his basement. The light muttering was certainly not on brand, though Hannibal found that recently he had been picking up a few of special agent Will Graham’s quirks. How curious. Certainly something to be looked into later, but for now, Hannibal had bigger fish to fry, if he could find a fish to fry at all, that was. Hannibal straightened his cashmere sweater and eyed the empty meat hooks gleaming in the low light. The week before, he had selected his own pig intended for the holiday feast to which he had invited his friends from the FBI. It seemed that the last of it had been polished off. Quite unfortunate. Hannibal checked his watch, shrugging his sleeve out of the way to eye the small roman numerals. Five in the evening, about an hour and a half before the start of the party. Goodness, he was cutting it close. Hannibal would have to act quickly if he wanted to get his meal together in time, so after pulling on the plastic suit hanging on the wall, he set out to obtain his main dish. 

Hannibal walked softly along the treeline, keeping his feet light the way that deer do as they walk amongst the foliage. Hannibal’s maroon gaze glinted in the dark, and he was thankful for the early sunset, giving him cover with the only light being from the waning moon. Goose Pimples crept up his arm as the winter wind howled, but Hannibal did not feel cold. In fact, he was vibrating with electricity as he noticed a man in the clearing up ahead, standing with his back to the predator, hands on his hips. Oblivious. Hannibal strode up behind him, still managing to keep his footfalls silent. The clouds parted slightly, and suddenly the man was illuminated. Hannibal had to actively keep himself from snorting. It was quite festive and certainly on theme that his main dish was to be a mall Santa. Perhaps Hannibal would even keep the hat if he deemed it able to be dry cleaned. He quite liked red velvet. 

Hannibal lunged forward like a bengal tiger, wrapping his arms around the mall Santa’s head. He barely had time to cry out in terror before a loud crack echoed throughout the surrounding woods and the man dropped dead in Hannibal’s arms. A clean kill, and on time, too. Hannibal checked his watch again happily as he realized that he still had about an hour until the first guests would be arriving. He pulled his carving knife from his belt and began to carve the “roast beast”. A good thigh cut would do nicely, of course paired with an appetizer that contained the liver. Hannibal placed his choice cuts into his black trash bag and slung it over his shoulder. In a moment of irony, Hannibal realized that it resembled Saint Nick’s toy sack. Hannibal chuckled to himself and took the hat. He would come back after the party was over to display the body in a much more entertaining way, but he was in a rush, and so he hurried home, not even pausing to look when he thought he saw something gleaming gold not 100 feet out from where he killed the mall Santa. Curious, but it hardly seemed relevant. Not at the time, anyway. 

The doorbell rang when Hannibal was at last sliding the thigh meat into the oven. “Hey,” Will Graham stood in the doorway, looking awkward in his too-big olive green coat that had a tattered sleeve(presumably due to one of the dogs). He sheepishly held up a plastic plate of hastily frosted sugar cookies covered in saran wrap. The icing was extremely green, and Hannibal wondered for a moment if Will used an entire bottle of food dye to color it. “I figured I should bring something, but I don’t really drink wine, and, well. I wouldn’t be able to tell what you’d like, so. They didn’t turn out as good as I’d hoped.”

Hannibal felt strangely touched at the gesture, and accepted the plate of cookies into his arms as he took Will’s coat and let him inside. “They look fantastic Will, thank you.”

Will seemed to brighten up considerably after that. 

After Will came, there was a steady flow of guests until the entire lower floor of Hannibal’s house was filled with the buzz of party-talk, people paired off to gossip about the goings-ons of the office and surely to admire Hannibal’s strange home decorations(“Are those… Are those real hooves on that chair?”). All was quieted as Hannibal drove the company into his dining room, gesturing to the place cards that he had carefully laid out earlier that morning(He had made the subconscious decision to put Will directly to his left and Jack to his right). He then conducted his servers like a fine orchestra as they arranged dishes on the table, the centermost being the fresh roast. It steamed as the massive plate was gently set against the mahogany by two men, and Hannibal’s audience clapped, allowing him to bask in the glowing looks of praise that he was receiving for his meal. Hannibal’s lips curled upward. 

“Thank you, thank you, friends,” Hannibal held up a hand and the room went silent, all eyes turned to their host as he raised his glass. “Tonight, we celebrate a day of spirit, and light, and joy. For this day, a pig gave his life-” Hannibal gestured to the meat on the table. “in the spirit of giving. To the life of the pig, and to Christmas spirit,” Hannibal winked and took a sip of wine. The table echoed the latter half of his toast, and drank, conversation beginning to buzz once more along with the steady clink of china and silverware as food began to fill plates. 

“Dr. Lecter, you have impressed me yet again,” Jack pointed his fork at the older man, a piece of roasted meat hanging from it, juices dripping.

“You are too kind,” Hannibal smiled pleasantly, chewing thoughtfully. He had indeed done a wondrous job. 

“So, Will, what are you doing for Christmas tomorrow?” Jack cocked his head and looked up at the man who gave a start in his seat and gazed back up, wide-eyed, a bit like a deer in headlights. Hannibal grinned with sharp predator teeth. 

“I’m not sure, actually. I guess I just thought I’d go fishing, maybe take the dogs down to the river. I don’t usually do too much on Christmas, really. You?”

“I was going to spend the day with Bella, actually. Make up for leaving her home on Christmas Eve, though I couldn’t pass up an offer to eat Hannibal’s cooking! As much as I love Bella’s, of course,” Jack laughed a loud “ha” and Will chuckled, hiding behind his glasses. 

It was at that moment that a loud grating sound came from the sitting room, a terrible screech that sounded much like a distressed bird. Heads began to turn in confusion, and Hannibal felt his brow crease. “Pardon me,” He stood elegantly, folding his napkin and laying it down on his seat in a swift motion before exiting the room, long legs carrying him toward the disturbance. Stalking legs. When he entered the room, The first thing that he noticed was that the grate over the fireplace was moved slightly to the left, and ash was lightly scattered in front of it along with a note. Hannibal approached the piece of paper and noticed that a single golden bell sat atop it. His frown deepened. Nimbly, Hannibal picked up the items, unfolding the note and juggling the bell at the same time, his eyes scanning the elegant script that lay before him. It smelled strongly of peppermint and fresh snow.

To Whom it May Concern,  
It has come to our attention that the title of Santa Clause has once again changed hands through blood. This is the first time in over a hundred years that the title has been passed in this way, so we hope that you are able to understand that we are in the right for being slightly addled that it was to happen in this way on the night of Christmas Eve. Please be ready outside of your residence at 9:30 pm sharp to drive the sleigh. We will send our head elf to aid you, as it is your first time. We suggest that you wear something heavy to protect you from the cold and possible weather that you may encounter whilst en route.  
Thank you for your time,  
The Kris Kringle Kabinet

(P.S. We do not go by our acronym)

“You okay, Dr. Lecter?” Hannibal’s breath hitched as he startled at Will’s soft voice coming from the doorway. 

“Yes, of course, Will. Thank you. I simply received quite the odd letter, though I am sure that I am being pranked by a neighbor. It is no worry.”

“May I see?” Will frowned, walking forward with his palm outstretched. His nice button up rode up on his arm and exposed his wrist, and if Hannibal were to place his fingers there, he would feel a steady heartbeat drumming. 

Hannibal hesitated before looking back up at Will’s face and gingerly handing over the note. “Of course, Will.”

Hannibal watched as Will read through the note, the crease between his eyebrows becoming increasingly prominent. At last, Will looked up and met Hannibal’s eyes before quickly looking away and giving the piece of paper back. “It’s certainly strange. And quite well done, in all honesty. Are they… accusing you of killing Santa?” Will shot Hannibal a joking grin, one that was slightly lopsided and showed Will’s endearing crooked teeth, the pink of his tongue slightly poking out and glinting in the light. 

Hannibal chuckled. “I suppose they are. Now then,” he set the items down on the coffee table and clapped his hands together. “I suppose it is time for dessert. If you don’t mind, Will, you should accompany me to the kitchen so that we may hand out plates, and perhaps sneak one of those green sugar cookies whilst we are back there.”

Hannibal did not miss the way that Will’s face glowed as bright red as Rudolph’s nose.


End file.
